


Shoe Talks to Himself

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [41]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers, Assault, Doubles of Every Character, F/M, Murder, Paralysis, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, one Racing Driver faces challenges no one expects him to survive.When Michael is killed, his Racing Driver half is paralyzed and sent to live with his family as a punishment.  They are underestimating the Strongest Racing Driver, if they are expecting him to give in.Shoe's life with Michael's Family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Tame Racing Drivers AU. Read the series summary.
> 
> I am REALLY not used to writing first person.
> 
> And this is first person present tense. If any of you notice misplaced tense, please let me know so I can fix it.

Picture a Racing Driver’s mind.

It is like a garage.  Outside of it is the pitlane, where anyone can move, make contact with each other and with me.  I can use it to speak to another Racing Driver, or I can travel to his garage.

I can invite him into my garage.  My mind.

Only if I trust him.  As much as I trust my crew.  I have to trust he won’t sneak information, or disturb the furnishings, or try to take anything away.  I trust my crew in my garage. I trust Racing Drivers I know in my mind.

Some of the crew works in the garage, but is not allowed to touch my car.  They do paper things, or make arrangements. Teammates, and Racing Drivers I need to keep in close contact with are like the crew who aren’t allowed to touch the car.

My friends are allowed more privileges.  The crew who knows how to work on the car are allowed to make changes and repairs.  I trust them to know what to do. I trust my friends to help me make changes, to work towards goals.  They understand what to do.

Only the engineer is allowed to change the design of my car.  He is the only one who understands the final goal. He understands every part of it, because we have worked together to build it.  He is the one on the crew I trust most of all. He knows what is happening at the big factory and he brings that information, so he can make the best changes to the car.  He understands things about me that I do not understand. He tells me what I need to know.

Michael.

The memory returning to my mind makes me shudder, but I take a breath and continue my recitation.

My match is my engineer.  He helps me become the best I can.  He knows the whole plan of my career.  He and I have worked together, to make me into a champion.  A Trainer.

Michael is the one I trust most of all.

He knows what is happening among the humans, and he uses that knowledge to find me teams, sponsors, crew members, friends, work as a driver, work as a Trainer.  He understands things about me I cannot understand. How my body works. What I need to do my best. What I cannot see, because I am too emotional. He understands how to help me feel, so I can use my emotions effectively.

Michael tells me what I need to know.

I have to be my own engineer now.

I have to be my own match.

To do that, I will have to learn to understand what humans know.

I open my eyes and focus every bit of my attention on Michael’s wife.  I have to do what no Racing Driver has ever done. I have to make sense of humans.

Corinna closes her eyes and opens them.  Her whole face is involved in the motion.  She opens her mouth. “Ahhh.” That noise is similar to one I can make, but then she makes a chewing noise.

She closes her eyes, very exaggerated, this time she repeats the motion.  She clicks her tongue on her teeth, gasps, and clicks her tongue again. She makes another chewing noise.

I make a noise, in my squishiest voice, but I think it just sounds like an exhalation.

She closes her eyes and opens them.  “Ahh.”

She repeats the blinking and clicks her tongue, gasps, and clicks her tongue.

I don’t understand you!

The sun was in the window to the left of this bed I’m lying in, when she came in.  Now it is coming in the window behind me. My legs must be tired from lying down so long, but I can’t tell.  The first few days, I tried and tried to tell them to move.

They haven’t listened yet.  I’m sure I understand that they won’t start again.

This is how Ferrari chose to punish me for helping the men on Top Gear.

Most Racing Drivers, deprived of their match to be their engineer, deprived of a crew of friends, and with no one outside in the pitlane to even reach, would not be able to race.  They would give up and they would die.

I take another breath and concentrate on Corinna’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words she is saying are Ja and Nein.
> 
> Corinna is speaking German to Shoe. She knows he isn't Michael, she thinks he is a man who has been Michael's racing double, and she thinks he has been left with their family to hide the fact that her husband has been killed. She knows the medical staff "paid for" by the FIA are there to keep her family, and him from revealing that Michael was killed.
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave a comment.
> 
> If you are having a hard time thinking what to say, please consider the following (feel free to leave your letter of choice.)
> 
> A) I like this  
> B) This is awesome  
> C) What will happen next?  
> D) I didn't think this was interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

My skin is on fire.

I don’t need to be able to feel it to tell.

I would be thrashing if I could.

I would be screaming if it wouldn’t give away my voice.

I haven’t driven since the day they took me out of my stall.

This might be what kills me.

The machine beside the bed, tied onto me with tubes, starts beeping.  It’s like one of the monitors for data in the garage. It makes me feel more comfortable, having it there.  I know it is data about me. The green line moves with my pulse.

Now there is a red light and the green line is swerving crazily across the screen.

One of the men comes in.

My pulse goes faster and the machine screams for me.

He’s going to touch me.

[Shut up,] He gestures.

I can’t answer.

I just growl.

He can hear my voice.  He knows what I am.

He heard my screams when he held me on my knees and made me watch them take Michael away from me.

[Driving?] He asks.

I close my mouth.

He moves over another monitor, on a table that reaches over the bed.

He turns it on.  There is a car on the screen.

My eyes go wide.  I can’t drive. I can’t even move controls.  I can’t move my hands. This  _ will _ kill me if I’m teased like this.

It turns out it is a simulator, a bad one, but a simulator, and I can control it by looking at different portions of the screen.  The most difficult part is learning to time steering, acceleration, and gear changes. It is like being a foal again and learning to drive all over.

I am a foal.

I must learn to speak and I must learn to drive.

I concentrate, until the fire settles to an itch, and then goes away.

I am panting when the man takes the monitor away.

I wish he would let me have some water.  I’m so thirsty.

Driving has never been so much hard work.

Finishing a lap has never been such a difficult goal.

Maybe I will be able to do it the next time I am allowed to use the simulator.

He leaves as I pant into the pillow, and Michael’s young filly comes in.  She is probably old enough to be a mare, but I don’t know how to tell when humans become adults.  She hasn’t matched. I don’t know if she has a career. She smells like horses, like Corinna does.  Michael said she works with them.

Hello, Gina.  I think. I wish I knew more about you.

I remember her fondly, seeing her growing up at our races, watching her father and I.  She is part of her father, and that means she’s part Racing Driver. Her touch doesn’t hurt me.

She strokes my hair and gets me some water.

Thank you, you are a nice...I decide to think of her as a young mare.  She seems responsible and kind, and I will treat her with the respect due an adult.  You are a nice mare.

She makes noises, like her dam, but she makes body language that makes sense.  She is easy to be with. She sits and talks to me for a long time.

I smile at her.

I am going to be living with this family for a long time.

I wish I could tell them I love them.  I must say this, because she leans down and kisses my cheek.  I kiss her cheek back.

I tell her again, [Kisses, please,] By pursing my lips, and she leans down and kisses my cheek again.

A rush of relief overwhelms me.

Oh Michael.  Your children.  They may not have enough Racer blood to be able to send, but they can speak.  Maybe this won’t be so impossible.

Thank you, Michael, for the gift of your children.


	3. Chapter 3

The colt comes in.  It is afternoon. Corinna has begun to leave the windows open.  I don’t know how she can tell that I love it, but she has realized, because now the windows are open every morning, and are only closed if the weather is cold, or wet.

The curtains are open, all the time.

My bed has been moved so I can see the birds in the yard outside.

The birds here are similar to the birds where I grew up.

Michael says his home is north of home.

I mean Ferrari.

I close my eyes.

The men did this to me, I whisper to myself.  My home will never stop being Ferrari. They can never take the red and yellow out of me.

The men aren’t Ferrari.

She was MY ancestor.

Not theirs.

I watch the colt.  He carries Michael’s Ferrari blood.  I like him. He and the filly both have wins on them, but hers are a different kind.  Like my little brothers, who ride the motorcycles.

His I understand.

I want to laugh.  Michael thought he could curb this in his foals.

They have the blood of Ferrari’s greatest champions.  Of course they will race.

They couldn’t help it.

Corinna follows the colt into the room, but stays by the door.  He looks back at her and smiles. It makes me curious.

He comes to me and hugs around my shoulders.

I smile at him.

Hello Mick.

He blinks, exaggeratedly.

I’m ready for this.  My ears are ready to notice any sort of different in the, “Ahhh,” Noise he will make.

I have noticed there is a tiny throat clearing noise on the front of it.

I have certainly determined the length of the exhalation does not have a bearing.  They come and repeat the same things to me, over and over. Always with the same motions.  The other noises they make, to me and to each other, are as random and incomprehensible as ever.  These noises remain the same.

They are trying to communicate something to me.

If I can learn to make out the sounds.  I will be able to understand. I know it.

I strain my ears for Mick’s breath.

He pops his mouth.  He hisses.

My mouth drops open.

What are you doing?!  Those are not the same noises!  If you change the noises I will NEVER be able to make the sounds out.

No!

Please go back to the other sounds?

Please, Mick?

He shakes his head.  He can see the distress on my face.  His dam steps forward. He holds up a wait hand.

He shakes his head at me.

He blinks again.

Did he understand me?

He bites his lip and then hisses again.

Oh no.

I have taken too long.  I have missed some sort of time frame.  They have given up on me. I have been too stupid.

He shakes his head.

He blinks again.

I can barely concentrate.

He makes a grinning face.  There is a noise, but I can’t distinguish it.  He puts his tongue between his teeth.

These are different noises.  All of them. None are the Ahh noise I have become used to, and none carry on to the second part, with the repeated blink.

What is going on?

He holds his hands up.

He blinks, while pointing to his eye, then he moves his hand away from him, waving his fingers.  This doesn’t mean anything in gesture, but if I can find a way to make him understand that YES, I understand his fingers.  I have seen men sign. I can learn if he will sign!

He nods.

I cannot nod back.

I look up and then down repeatedly.  Please notice this means something. Please Mick, LOOK at me.  Leave the noises alone and LOOK.

He leans in close.

He points to his eyes as he blinks.

He nods.

YES, I know what nodding means.  What is the blinking?

He blinks once, this time he nods at the same time.

I gasp.

Was it really that easy?

I blink.

He shouts.

He hugs me, hard, and his mother rushes over.

They speak, and then Mick turns back to me.  He blinks and nods.

I blink back.

This is it!  They have been signing to me the whole time and it had been ME who hadn’t been looking.  Stupid, stupid stallion.

He points to his eyes again and blinks, then blinks again.

I have never wanted anything more than to know what the second sign means.

He shakes his head no.

I groan.

Stupid stallion.

Yes and no.

I blink and again.  They both hug me. They are shouting.  They make me blink yes and no over and over.  They point to the water, I blink yes.

They point to an extra blanket.  I blink no.

Then I cannot see, because there are tears.  They didn’t give up on me. They realized they had to try different things.  They could see my struggle to understand them.

I hold the Ahh noise, and the click-gasp-click noise in my heart.  Yes and no. I have learned two human words. I am the first Racing Driver ever to do so.

And it means nothing compared to the joy of my family understanding me.

When they both make eye contact with me again, I blink, and blink and blink.  Then I stop.

They seem confused.  I look firmly at Mick, and I look firmly at Corinna, and purse my lips.

I love you.


	4. Chapter 4

When he told me humans sleep lying down, I could hardly believe him, I asked if their muscles stopped working when they slept.  I meant it as a joke. It turns out they do.

He told me he slept lying down, too.

He could sleep standing, but the other humans would notice he was strange.

I remember, now, that he told me at night, he would lie down, and his wife would lie down next to him.  I thought the story was about to get very personal, but it didn’t. That was all. They lay next to each other and slept.

I had forgotten that, until a few days after I was brought to Michael’s home.

At the medical center, I was in a medical bed.  Racing Drivers do sleep lying down in the medical center, if they need to rest without standing.

I have never slept well, lying down.

When I came to Michael’s home, and the medical bed had been taken away, Corinna got under the covers beside me.

I did not sleep at all.

Tonight I woke up from a nightmare.  Always the same nightmare. She held me.  Like she could protect me.

I think she heard me crying.

When I calmed down, she fell asleep on my shoulder.  She pulled my arm around her, like I was holding her.  It was a strange pretense.

She knows I’m not her husband.

She knows I can’t hold her.

I am going to be with this family for the rest of my life.  I don’t know how long that will be, maybe not long.

If I am here a long time, I know I will start wanting to hold her.

You are a good woman, Corinna.

I admire you.

He was lucky.

I can’t sleep after the nightmares, and the only human to study is not moving.  It is time to practice managing my own emotional flow.

Inside of me is an engine, I recite.  It is fueled by my emotions. My emotions flow from somewhere inside me.  Without driving, a Racing Driver must have a match, or another Racing Driver to create an outlet.

I never examined WHAT Michael did to create that outlet.

If driving also creates the outlet, then does it have something to do with motion?  No. Does it have to do with exertion? No. I exert myself in workouts and do not experience the same relief.

I am thinking about this from the wrong direction.

If another Racing Driver were to come to me, and ask me to help him- What would I DO?

I close my eyes and create as realistic an image of my favorite teammate as I can.

‘Shoe,’ Pedra says to me, in my imagination.  He sends this, because we are best friends, and we like to be close.  ‘I am not getting enough fulfillment, please share with me.’ He said that a lot, when we raced together.  He would open his mind and...that’s not right.

Pedra HAD asked that, but I don’t know how he created the outlet, anymore than I know how Michael did.

If I am going to figure this out, I am going to have to put myself in the position of the one accepting the extra emotion.

I shake my head.  The movement disturbs Corinna and she wakes up.  She makes some quiet noises at me. It is a shame she does not have a beautiful V8 voice.  I shake off this fantasy. She is not a mare. She is not interested in stallions.

_Except Michael_ , I think.

No.

She thought Michael was a man.

_ She thinks I am a man. _

I bite my lip.

She is wrong.  More wrong that she was with Michael.  At least Michael could give her children who could speak like her.  Mine would be as likely to be born with voices like mine, like Mancha was, and be taken away.  That would frighten her. She would not understand.

I am not even...does that even work?  I cannot feel anything. Nothing moves.

No, I decide, slowly.

It is not a consideration, then.

I make my new favorite gesture.  I purse my lips.

She hesitates.

Now she remembers I am not her husband.

I can see her in the dark.  Better than she can see me. I know she has seen me speak, though.

I don’t want her to think I am demanding, she doesn’t know me, so I smile and return to looking at the ceiling.

She smiles, though.  Then she leans over me, and she kisses me.

It feels good.  My attention is concentrated, and a single kiss has never made me feel so much.  Her hand started sliding down my chest, rubbing circles on my belly. I can’t feel any of this, but I can see the blankets moving.

“Ahh?” Her eyebrows raise, a human sign for a question.

This really isn’t going to work.

I bite my lip again.

I blink once.

Then I blink again.


	5. Chapter 5

I can hear his footsteps.  As soon as he comes into the house.  Corinna, Gina and Mick have been moving around in the way they do when they are preparing to leave.  I can see the birds, and the handlers ignore me unless the monitor tells them to do something. So it is fine.

My family doesn’t leave me alone with them for very long.  It seems they won’t be leaving me alone. I can’t look to the side enough from my place on the bed to see the door.

He walks in, and distantly, I hear the others leave.

I smile at him and rev.

I am so glad to see you.  Thank you for coming to see me.

I wish you had brought my brother, but I understand that you can’t.

I would invite you to sit down, but as you can see, my voice has changed.

He approaches me cautiously.  He came to the medical center.  He asked me if I was me. I had no way to tell him yes.

He asked me if his brother was dead.

I am certain he understood my crying meant that yes, Michael is gone.

He sits on the corner of the foot of the bed with his arms crossed.  He is wearing a leather jacket that makes a squeaking noise. My ears have gotten a lot of practice picking out sounds.

Now that there is nothing else to hear.

He is nervous.  He doesn’t make eye contact.

I rev.

His eyes move to me, but none of the rest of his body changes.

I raise my eyebrows.

He works his mouth and then unfolds his arms.  [One blink for yes, two for no, right?]

[Yes.]

[They say you let them touch you.]

I don’t have a choice, but they are Michael's, and I have found I don’t mind.  I blink one eye. [The answer is too complicated for yes or no.]

He picks up the cards with pictures from the table.  When Corinna holds them up, she can point to pictures of foods or items, and I can say yes or no.  It is long and laborious, but it is beginning to make my life better, and her life easier. He runs his fingers over them and sets them down.  [I suppose you do not have a choice.]

He always was the smart one.

I smile ruefully.

He doesn’t seem very friendly.  I hoped he would be excited to see me.  I hoped, a lot of things that I cannot convey to him or have him answer.  I will have to rely on his native intelligence to perceive what I need, and his compassion to offer it.

[Is the simulator enough?]

Oh Ralf.  Aren’t you and I beyond the basics?  Don’t come here as a replacement match, trying to ease things for me.

You of all the people in this family know what I might be going through.  What might really be happening.

You and I are the only ones.

[They are making us go back,]  He said, suddenly, looking up fiercely.

What?

[No.]

He blinks back at me in angry mocking of my sign.  [Yes.] He stands up, [They had a comeback planned for YOU.  That is gone now. Little brother gets called in.]

I’m sorry.  I know you wanted to stop.

I make a sad rev.

It is strange to hear my voice after so long.

He smiles sadly.  [I get to see Rex again.]  He sits back down on the bed, much closer this time, like the rest of the family sits.  He reaches for my hand and then stops. [Does it bother you when they touch you? I can tell them to stop, that your skin hurts, or something.]

[No.]

He indicates that he would like to pick up my hand.  [Is this alright?]

[Yes.]

He picks up my hand and strokes it.

It itches, but I am so lonely to be touched that I don’t stop him.

[Seeing Rex again, made me think about you.  Seeing how much he missed me. I’m sorry I haven’t been here, since you got home.  Or since you got here.] He has tears in his eyes. [You must miss him.]

I close my eyes, for a long time.

When I open them, he is still stroking my hand.

[Did you hear what I came up in?]

[No.]

[It is the new Mercedes street car.  That is the team we are driving for. Mercedes.]

Mercedes.  One of the oldest stables.  I’d heard they were merging with McLaren.  I must have been wrong. What an honor. Rex and I were from Mercedes blood, a long time back.  Rex more than I.

They were back in F1.

With Rex representing them.

An honor.

I blink the other eye once.  It means what, in the new signs I am learning.

He nods.  He leans close to me.  [Do you want to go see her?]

I breathe hard.  [Yes!]

I love going outside.  It doesn’t happen very often, because Corinna is strong, but she struggles to move me, and I will tolerate my family touching me, but I still panic when the handlers try.

They would be feeling my elbows if I were still…

Nevermind.

Ralf is easily strong enough to lift me into the wheelchair, and he can ask if I need to be repositioned more easily.

We go outside and I breathe deeply when we get off the porch.  My window is to that side. The yard with the bird bath is Right Over There.

We went out to sit by it once.

Outside the front door is a beautiful grey Mercedes.  Of course he chose grey. I can’t help but rev, and then to keen, like I can hear her from this distance.

[Wait until we get to her, stallion.]  Ralf laughs. [You can sing to her from the drivers seat.]

The drivers seat!

He takes me around to the side of the car and lifts me out of the chair, ducking carefully, but I still feel the doorframe brush my hair as it passes over my head.

He doesn’t put my feet on the pedals.  I couldn’t feel them, anyway, but he puts her in neutral and pushes the brake with his hand, and he starts her.

I moan, and it’s embarrassing.

I turn red like he caught me staring at someone else’s trophies.

He laughs.  [She does that to me, too.]

We listen for awhile and he reaches for my hands.  [Do you want to sing to her?]

[Yes.]

He puts my hands on the steering wheel, holding them on with his hands over them.  I lick my lips. It has been a long time since I have used my voice at all.

It takes me a few tries producing some horrible croaking noises, before I reach my usual pitch and then drop, lower and lower, until I’m matching the street car’s voice.  I keen louder, expending all my breath, and then have to take another, deeper breath to keen long enough.

When I sing her song, I can feel, without needing my hands or my feet or the seat, how her engine runs.  I can feel how she is put together.

I can’t keep it up.  I’m not used to making noise.  Those muscles are fading like the rest of them.  I’m left panting after my brief conversation with the Merc.

It is uncomfortable how long it takes me to recover, and I think Ralf gets worried, as well.  Like he might have done something to hurt me.

I smile at him.

Thank you.

[Do you want to go for a ride?  I can only drive you around the driveway.]

[No.]  I was never, ever, a good passenger.  I think he has heard stories.

The only one I trusted to drive was Michael.

Now, no one.

I rest in the beautiful street car for a long time.

Then back into the wheelchair, and we start back towards the house.  [Ready to go back in?] He asks.

[No.]

[You want to go check out the garage?]

[No.]  I am too tired.  It would be too much work.  I blink my right eye to indicate the long explanation.

[What do you want to do?]

I slowly look towards the yard.

He follows my gaze, and smiles, [Birds, huh?]

Yes!

Thank you for understanding.

I want to see the birds.

I have tears again, by the time we move into the cool shade, as close to the bird bath as possible.  He sits on the grass next to the chair.

Then he moves his hands, and he sings in a humming voice.

I already know the gestures.

 

A bird flies out of the sky, it’s wings are wide

It lands so close I can nearly touch it.

It sings a song and I understand it’s message

A message from someone far away that I love.

 

Bird hold true, and carry across the sky

My love and a kiss.

I cannot travel with you, to all the places you go

My love finds you, you know I am here.

 

We watch the birds.  For a long time. He is the only one who really understands.  What I need.


	6. Chapter 6

I come awake with a start. Eyes wide.

Completely alert.

I am not alone.

It is mid-afternoon. I spent a lot of time sleeping, now.

‘FOAL!’ I scream.

Smug assurance comes back.

He must be close. I can feel him.

I panic when I realize I’ve momentarily forgotten his name.

‘You!’

‘I will be there soon, Champion.’

Champion?

Oh yes. That’s what I am.

He thinks soon means a different thing than I think it means.

‘NOW?’ I ask.

He is so close, I cannot imagine why he doesn’t just come inside.

His man visited me a few times. Early on. It has been a long time.

‘I don’t know, Champion. Soon.’

I realize he is getting closer. As my mind adapts to functioning again, I realize he is a long way away, but he has become strong.

‘Sunshine,’ I whisper, though perhaps it is just less of a shout than it was before, ‘You will need to close your connections to almost nothing. You will burn me out. I can’t take your strength.’

‘What a strange joke.’

I feel fear, unaware I am sending it. ‘I’m not joking. You really need to shut a lot of it down, you’re hurting me.’

He is.

It is like being burned with hot soup.

Feeling hurt, he starts to reduce what he is sending.

‘Quieter, please,’ I whisper.

I hear my mouth whimper.

This catches the attention of the handler who is operating the pressure cuff on my arm. He narrows his eyes and leans closer to me.

If feel a moment of fear that he suspects something.

He goes back to ignoring me.

‘Let me see who is around you,’ Sunshine says, reaching for my senses. I cringe away at first, but I am beginning to feel stronger, so I pass him what remains of them.

He tries to feel with my hands. Checks his connection to my mind. Tries again to feel my hands.

‘They don’t work anymore,’ I say gently. I am getting tired of this. I redirect his attention to what is left of my sensory input. ‘This is all there is. You will have to make due.’

He notices right away how sharp my hearing is. He feel surprised. He listens to the sounds of the house, and examines the handler leaning over me.

‘Who else is in the house?’

‘Corinna and Mick are upstairs. My mare and colt.’

He catches the slip before I do, but he doesn’t mention it. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Michael has been gone for so many seasons. She kisses me, now. Mick isn’t my colt, but he is the colt in my family.

‘There is also the handler you saw, and another in the hall outside the door.’

‘They have tasers?’

‘Not tasers, guns.’

‘What is a gun?’

I show him the only experience I have of guns. My match sobbing apologies, and then blood all over my face and clothes.

He is quiet for a long time. I think he has turned his attention to Sebastian.

When he returns, he says, ‘I am not sure how to deal with that.’

‘Champions know how to plan,’ I tell him. ‘It’s what we are best at. Don’t worry. It will be fine.’ I leave him alone for a moment to absorb my reassurance. Then I say, ‘I am proud of your championships, Sunshine. You deserve them.’

His mind glows full of pleasure.

‘When you get here, pretend you are Sebastian and come inside. I want to see you first. You can go back out after.’

‘Alright.’

‘We are at a building.’ He shows me the outside of the home. ‘Sebastian is worried what will happen if I come in.’

‘It will be fine.’

‘What if someone speaks to me?’

‘They won’t.’

He is walking towards the house. I can gauge his distance accurately, now. I have remembered how to use my mind.

With long practice, I move through the pitlane, into his garage, into his control of his body. He tries to push me away. He has championships, but I am still much stronger.

He watches, frustrated.

I have been planning this for a very long time.

All I have been waiting for is a Champion’s body.

I open my eyes.

I am in the driveway, in Sunshine’s body.

I barely notice that Sunshine has some kind of difficulty breathing. Compared to the difficulties my body presents me, it is nothing. It takes the considerable self control I have gathered over the seasons to keep myself from skipping on his legs and whooping and shouting with his hands.

I stride to my home's front door and throw it open confidently.

I own this building.

My wins earned it.

The handler in the hallway looks up, and then looks again when he realizes I am not someone usual.

He makes noises. I am surprised I cannot understand any of them, but of course, Sunshine’s ears aren’t trained to distinguish the sounds. I smile and wave as I have seen so many humans do. This gives me a few more steps before he decides he should take action.

He makes more noises. I stride further across the hallway.

He pulls out the gun.

He aims it at me.

It takes him a long time.

Humans are so slow.

I just step to the side, then ducking the other way to make sure. The bullets miss me by so far, I wouldn’t even be drafting, following at that distance. Then I run. Faster than he can ever hope to react.

I stop face to face with him, the man who used the tool that ruined my body. Finally! I can’t keep myself from making a triumphant noise. I step around behind him.

I didn’t like it when you broke my spine.

Don’t worry, I won’t make you suffer like that.

I break his neck.

He doesn’t suffer.

The predator part of me decides to eat him. I ignore the impulse.

The door to my room is opening. The second handler comes out, holding his gun in front of him like it will protect him.

I grab it and throw it behind me.

I take a long time to look into his eyes. It might have not seemed very long to him. His eyes are blue. I never noticed before. I will never forget.

If he was a Racing Driver he would have felt my memories of being torn apart by his gun before he died. All I can think is that I want to convey to him how MUCH it hurt me when he killed Michael How much it hurt my family.

Why did you do that?

Why didn’t you know it was wrong?

How can you be so cruel?

I miss him.

The man who killed my match doesn’t suffer, either.

Maybe I am better than men.

Sunshine’s reaction does not corroborate this. He is shrieking at me. ‘You killed them! You killed humans! What is WRONG with you?!’

What a thing for him to say to me.

I take his mind and suddenly we are standing in a stable exercise yard. A frozen memory is around us, like a statue, but everything as real as Racing Driver senses could record it.

There is a young stallion, barely old enough to be matched. He is awkward with fresh growth. He is different. We can both feel it. The exercise yard is full of strong, healthy matched stallions. Physically he is strong, but something is cracked inside his mind.

He is lying face down on the ground.

He has only matched this winter. He has never had a chance to win even one race.

There is another stallion on top of him. This stallion is older, and a little shorter, but heavier with muscle, and MUCH heavier with wins. He is a champion.

He is the lead stallion.

He is the head of this family.

He is grinding the young stallion’s face against the concrete. His knees are on the young stallion’s back, keeping him from drawing breath. He knows this is what he is doing.

They all do.

The other stallions are watching fearfully.

The champion could do this to any of them.

None of them have any wins.

The young stallion fights against his lead stallion as ineffectively as a songbird would fight a man crushing it in his hands. He reeks of fear. He has pissed himself. He understands that he is being killed.

We stand and look at this inequity. He doesn’t want to look at it. I don’t show any emotion at the horrible thing that is happening in front of us.

‘A lead stallion knows one Racing Driver’s life does not weigh against the herd’s safety. Every stallion who has lead knows that they might be faced with the challenge of disposing of a threat to the herd.’

He glares at me. ‘He didn’t deserve this. His lead stallion was supposed to PROTECT him. Offer him every opportunity. Not strike him for the first offense.’

‘It is a decision,’ I say.

‘He didn’t PUT the herd in danger. He just said something he should not have!’ Sunshine throws his hand out towards the young stallion.

I look at him, watching his eyes to see what he really feels, and how he will say it. ‘Lead stallions understand that some things warrant death.’

‘Some things.’

‘They killed Michael. In front of me. Not a Racing Driver, a human. That is not in the agreement. Our matches are supposed to be free when we die.’ I walk over to the still tableau of the young stallion and the champion. I cross my arms and examine them.

He glares at the champion pinning the helpless foal. ‘Xerxes didn’t die.’

‘What did he say to deserve this, Sunshine? What could he possibly have said that made you do this to him?’

His face turns into a snarl, and the memory beginnings to flicker back to life around us. The stillness ends, and the memory moves. Sunshine’s voice sounds loud in both of our minds.

‘I will kill you if you ever tell anyone about Sebastian.’

The Sunshine I have with me is feeling the words along with his memory. His hands are fisted now, like they were then.

I bring us away from the memory. I bring us back into his body, standing outside the front door, breathing heavily. ‘They killed Michael in front of me,’ I say again. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t understand.’

He is the one in control of his body again. His shoulders hunch and his fists clench. ‘Not anymore.’

He stands straight. ‘I was wrong to hurt him. I will never be able to fix that mistake. You did this with MY hands. MY match is there,’ He points a hand away towards the road, ‘And he will know that my hands have done this. You will owe me for that.’

He takes a light step, like I never will again, and jogs down the driveway.

‘My hands. My match,’ I echo as I slip out of his mind.

I return to my body.

I have been away from my kind for too long. I have lost sight of right and wrong. I watch the shadow and light on the ceiling. It doesn’t take very long before he is back, with his match, to take us all away.

I am sorry, when I see he has stripped the awareness of the men out of his match’s mind.

He has thought of what is best for the ones around him.

I have not.

I have no way to take the memory from Corinna and Mick’s minds. I have to way to take their memories of leaving the bodies in an outbuilding.

My son has grown into a strong, mature stallion. He has outgrown the mistakes he made when he was young. He has outgrown his arrogance. He has found a life that has brought him balance. He knows the value of a life.

I no longer do.

‘Will you teach me to be a Trainer?’ He asks, later.

And I ask, ‘Will you teach me to remember compassion?’

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment.
> 
> If you are having a hard time thinking what to say, please consider the following (feel free to leave your letter of choice.)
> 
> A) I like this  
> B) This is awesome  
> C) What will happen next?  
> D) I didn't think this was interesting.
> 
>  
> 
> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me, as does the AU in which it is set.


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